


The Darkness Calls

by TheMortalOlympion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMortalOlympion/pseuds/TheMortalOlympion
Summary: This is a world in which the Dark Mark appears on your 11th birthday and calls you to the dark side when you turn 16. You can't escape it; the pain aches and the voices in your head drive you mad until you finally relent. Draco comes of age and he doesn't want to go. Harry doesn't want him to go either. Drarry AU





	1. The Mark

**Author's Note:**

> "Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody."― Mark Twain

_June 5th, 1991_

Draco Malfoy shifted nervously under the scrutiny of his party guests- mostly family, a small lot, but no less intense. It was his eleventh birthday, a milestone, especially in the Malfoy family, and the packed room was anticipating this precise moment. It would be any minute now. If he was chosen, his Dark Mark would appear. It's the day his parents had been waiting for. For years, telling him with pride that one day he would be a part of something worlds bigger than his own self. That he would inherit a dynasty.

Draco didn't know if he wanted to be chosen.

But he would be. That was certain. Everyone in his family received their Dark Mark, every branch of the Malfoy family tree marked with the crest of the Dark Lord. (All except his mother, Narcissa, one of the uncommon, but not altogether rare, cases of one who chose instead of being chosen.) The prospect of continuing a long line of dark wizards unsettled Draco just a bit, and he felt a small pit in his stomach start to form.

Suddenly, there it was. A small tingling sensation, almost unnoticeable at first, in his left arm. The faint tingle grew stronger with every passing second and Draco flexed his bony fingers against the pain, grimacing. Narcissa, ever observant, took immediate notice of the small gesture her son had made, her head perking up in eagerness and anticipation.

"Lucius," she hissed at her husband who had been talking quietly with Rudolphus Lestrange. "Lucius, come quick. It's beginning." After a beat, a dark smile crossed the wizard's face and, ceasing his previous conversation entirely, he swiftly crossed the room to where his son sat in a great curving armchair. One by one, the guests that filled the sitting room of Malfoy Manor came to circle around the boy.

Draco hissed in a breath as fine lines began to swirl to life in his skin, the inky black cutting a stark contrast against the pale of his arm. More lines began to surface, finally taking the ominous shape of the Dark Mark, prominent on his skin. An excitable murmur broke out among the small crowd of people as Lucius placed his hand firmly on his son's shoulder, relishing in the praise and attention the family of three was receiving.

Draco sat almost expressionless in the posh, overstuffed armchair. The pit in his stomach had blossomed into a full flowering vine of dread and apprehension that coiled itself around his insides. He knew he would be chosen. And now he would be called. Called to the darkness that he feared so much. Called to a master he knew nothing of, who wasn't even believed to be alive by some. Called to honor the Malfoy name, carry on the legacy. Push it down, a voice inside him urged. _Bear it with pride. Stay loyal._

Draco clenched his jaw and smiled a tight smile. _Loyal._

"Congratulations, sweetheart," his mother crooned, caressing his white blond hair and lifting her chin to soak in the praise.


	2. The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. "
> 
> ― Edna St. Vincent Millay

_August 1996 (Summer before sixth year)_

_It was dark. Shadows lay in all directions on the marble floors of Malfoy Manor. Figures in dark hoods stood in wait. A sinister looking boa constrictor was coiled next to a dark silhouette, its head resting underneath an unearthly, bony hand. It hissed maliciously. Draco shrank back. He clutched his wand tightly, head pounding, heart racing._

_The dark silhouette spoke. The voice was reminiscent of a snake, if a serpent could speak._

_"Draco," the voice called quietly. It echoed off the walls, a hundred whispers of his name. He flinched as sweat beaded on his forehead. Was this the Dark Lord he had heard so much of? "Soon, Draco," he hissed again. The words shook Draco's bones. It seemed as though his mind didn't need an explanation. He knew exactly what they meant._

_"No," he said with what he hoped was resolve although his voice was shaking. Everything was shaking. "I won't."_

_The menacing shadowed silhouette took a long stride forward and Draco whipped his head around as more hooded figures appeared out of the darkness all around him. "Soon," that snake-like voice repeated and suddenly a chorus of "Draco" sounded from the ever growing crowd of people around him. It started soft and grew into a cacophony of sound, the repeated word mixing, swirling with its echoes, filling the air and making his head spin._

_Draco staggered. The incessant words were now unrecognizable, the noise invaded his space, his mind. It was driving him to madness. The figures began to surround him, coming closer and closer. The echoes only seemed to get infinitely louder, suffocating him, the pounding in his skull turned to a sharp, driving pain long ago. He stumbled to his knees and gave a shout as the scene before him swirled nauseatingly. "Draco, Draco, Draco…" the figures chanted as everything began to fade to black…_

"Draco," another voice said softly. A familiar voice this time. "Draco," it said again, laced with concern. Someone was shaking him, but he couldn't register his surroundings. "Draco," the voice said one last time, insistent, scared.

Draco awoke with a gasp. His eyes snapped open and his chest heaved, the sheen of a cold sweat covering his body. A pair of arms came to his aid immediately, wrapping around his shaking shoulders, hands carding through his sweat-soaked blond hair.

"Harry," Draco gasped, frantically clutching at the other boy's shirt.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay," Harry repeated quickly, holding the back of Draco's neck securely. "I'm here. I'm right here." He could feel Draco's tears falling lightly on his neck. He pressed his nose into the white-blond of the other boy's hair, placing kiss after kiss there until he noticed that Draco's thin frame had stopped shaking.

The two boys sat in silence in the small bedroom, the occupants of the other two beds long awake, listening to the soft, homey sounds the drifted up the stairs and filled The Burrow.

"Another nightmare…?" Harry asked after another beat of quiet. Draco nodded into the crook of his neck. "Do you… do you want to talk about it?" Draco sucked in a breath and let it out shakily.

"He was there this time," the blond boy said, so quietly that Harry almost didn't catch it. But he did. And he was taken aback. He pushed Draco away by his shoulders to look at his face.

"He was there? Are you sure it was him?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I- I think so," Draco replied quietly as he drew his hands into his lap.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" the dark haired boy asked sweetly. Draco shook his head decisively. Harry's face fell the slightest bit, so slight that anyone else would have missed it completely. But not Draco. And his heart panged. He hated making Harry feel like he didn't trust him. He did. With all his heart. This was just so new and too jarring for him to process just yet. ]

"I can't," he said gently. "Not yet." And then he decided, "Later. I promise." And Harry smiled that beautiful smile of his, soft and tired from grogginess and full of understanding.

"Of course," he said after a moment. "Now come on, Mrs. Weasley has probably had breakfast ready for an hour," he chuckled, noticing Draco was already settling back into bed.

"Noooooo," came Draco's muffled wail through the pillows. Harry rolled his eyes, tsking softly.

"Come on. Up," he commanded, pushing the blond's middle to roll him onto his back. Draco only responded by grabbing a pillow fiercely and covering his face with it.

"Draco," Harry groaned.

"Uh-uh," the other boy replied quickly. Sighing, Harry stood, stretching his tired form. ]

"Alright, you asked for it." And with that Harry grabbed the sleeping boy's arm and hauled him over his shoulder. Draco let out a shout of surprise and the pillow thudded, forgotten, back onto the mattress as Harry started out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

"Potter, you absolute _**wanker!**_ " he shouted. "Put me down!"

Harry chuckled. "You really are a spoiled prat," he said through a laugh.

"You little shite! My father will hear about this!" Draco hit his fist against Harry's back, barely holding back his own laughter.

"Mmhm," Harry hummed, eyes closed with laughter, "Your father would love to hear all about this. Why don't you tell him about last night too, huh? In the garden? I'm sure he'd love to hear about tha-" He stopped dead and Draco gave a small noise of disapproval as his body jerked in the awkward position. The entire Weasley clan and Hermione had their eyes turned toward the couple. Arthur and Molly in shock, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny in amusement and poor Ron in unbridled horror. Harry dropped Draco unceremoniously back onto his feet, both boys' faces flaming.

"Oi! Lovebirds!" Fred called out, cutting the silence. "I'm sure we'd all love to hear about last night in the garden." Molly made a noise of objection, hitting her son over the head with the Prophet as everyone else- save Ron- erupted into laughter and business resumed as usual. Chatter filled the air as Harry and Draco took their seats at the breakfast table.

George clapped Harry on the back laughing. "Atta boy, Harry," he said and Harry couldn't help but grin, cheeks still on fire.

"Ew, come off it, George, that's my best mate!" Ron whined, only half serious. Harry laughed and squeezed Draco's hand underneath the table. He look around at the chaotic lot. Arthur talking excitedly to Molly about his most recent Muggle raid, the twins arguing over who gets the last piece of bacon, and Ron, Hermione and Ginny all laughing about some anecdote or another. His heart constricted. They had been so kind when he had first brought Draco to the Burrow with him. It made his heart ache with love- so much love- remembering how they had made Draco feel so welcomed and at home, just like they had for him all those years ago.

"What are you smiling about?" Draco asked him softly, his steel grey eyes amused. Harry scoffed playfully, hitting his shoulder against the other boy's lightly.

"None of your business, Malfoy," he joked. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, you can be such a child," he said with hie silver eyebrows raised over his mug of tea. Harry let out a bark of laughter despite himself.

"Ha! Says the one that I just carried down the stairs!" he countered.

"Yes, but it's cute when I do it," Draco said with a dignified air and a smirk.

"You're insufferable!" Harry chuckled incredulously.

"You love me," came Draco's reply. It wasn't a question.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, yeah I do," he conceded, pecking his boyfriend on the corner of his mouth.

"Sap," the blond boy said blushing.

"Wank," Harry returned. Draco shoved him laughing his beautiful laugh. It sounded like bells to Harry. The dark haired boy laughed in response.

"Seriously, what were you smiling about, Potter?" Draco asked again as their laughter died down. Harry looked at him then, green eyes so full of earnest that Draco could feel his heart swell.

"You," the other boy said simply and that was the last crack in the dam. He surged forward and kissed him sweetly. In this moment it was just them. The chatter of the Weasleys, the clanging of the self-washing dishes, the chimes from outside all faded and time in their little bubble seemed to slow. Harry was Draco's pillar. And Draco, Harry's. There was something about the way they fit together that made sense, like tumblers in a lock, clicking into place and creating a stronghold.

Draco sighed contentedly and pulled back after a moment to a chorus of "No PDA at the table!" most likely initiated by Fred and George. Harry threw a croissant in their general direction laughing, one hand softly touching his lips.

"I bloody love you," Harry said through a laugh as chatter once again resumed like normal. Draco couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"I bloody love you too, Scarhead," he replied lacing their fingers under the table. Like tumblers in a lock.

~~~~~~

"I'm going to kick your arse!" Draco heard Ginny shout in the distance.

"In your dreams, baby sis," came one of the twins' reply. He laughed lightly looking out at the scene before him. They were all going out to play a little Quidditch. Fred and George, Ron, Ginny, and Harry all racing over the hilly terrain to the open field where they planned to play, brooms in hand, throwing their heads back and shaking with laughter. It made Draco smile fondly.

He hung back a little ways trying to get a handle on his pounding head. The pain had begun shortly after breakfast and it seemed no charm or spell could make it go away. One particularly bad pulse had caused him to suck in a breath sharply.

"You okay there?" Harry had asked squeezing Draco's hand lightly.

"Yeah," he had replied in a clipped tone and Harry didn't push it, though he could tell the other boy didn't quite believe him.

Draco sighed now, adjusting his grip on the broom he was holding. He couldn't see Hermione from where he was walking; he assumed she must be much farther ahead.

"Malfoy!" came her voice as she fell into step beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Merlin, Granger!" he protested, his skull giving a painful throb.

"Oh! Sorry," she said, slightly awkward, from beneath her wild mane of frizzy hair. He waved off her concerns absently with a slender hand as his head gave another angry throb.

"Why aren't you with the others?" Draco asked trying not to let his voice sound too strained. She gave a snort of laughter.

"Quidditch!" she laughed. "Not my thing." She gestured to a tattered, most likely borrowed, messenger bag on her far shoulder that seemed to be overflowing with books. "I was just back at The Burrow picking out a few more things to read. But you- you love Quidditch! You should up there playing. With Harry." She added it almost as an afterthought, Draco noticed. He sighed slightly.

"Not feeling very well," he said and shrugged.

Curiosity had bloomed in Hermione's dark features, but she all she said in reply was, "Oh, well, feel better then."

"Thanks," Draco said quietly as he pressed his lips together.

"I'm gonna…" she started, pointing a finger at the group still running ahead, "I'm gonna go. Really though, feel better." And with that she began to jog toward the others, large book bag bouncing awkwardly at her side. From a distance away Draco swore he heard an exasperated, "Wait up! Ronald!" He laughed faintly. He was really starting to warm up to Granger… and Weasel… they weren't so bad.

He kept walking, taking measured breaths to try to calm his migraine. Something flashed in the corner of his eye, black and blurry. Draco whipped his head in the direction of the shadow, only met with rolling green hills shrouded in the golden hue of the late morning sun. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, trying to clear his head. _It's nothing. Just a trick of the light._

It happened in a moment, as if in slow motion. The shadowy figure from his nightmare appeared in front of him, contrasting starkly against the fresh, bright landscape. A pulse flared through his skull so powerful he felt he might be paralyzed, accompanied by matching agony flowing through his marked arm. The figure whispered his name again but this time Draco heard it inside his own head. With an anguished roar he collapsed to his knees, broom lying forgotten beside him. Breathing shallow and tears staining his face, Draco struggled for consciousness, but he was too weakened by the pain coursing through his body. With a final wretch he fell, crumpled, to the grass and the darkness washed over him.


	3. The Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness."
> 
> ―Eleanor Roosevelt

"Come on Hermione! Don't wanna be left out," Ron pressed.

"Yeah, come on, Hermione! You'll have fun I swear!" Harry chorused with the twins and Ginny echoing in the background.

"You guys! I'm dreadful at Quidditch and you know it!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated. "And plus it'll be uneven with me!" she added, thinking of Malfoy walking alone behind them. She wondered if he'd even be joining them, but she didn't say anything.

"That is true," Ginny said next to her.

"You are right dreadful," Ron added earning an elbow in the ribs from Hermione. Harry listened to the four of them bicker and laughed lightly. He turned back to look at Draco. He was still a ways behind them, although closer than before. He wished he was up there with the rest of them.

"Go ahead," Draco had said, "I'll be there eventually."

"Okay, but you're sure?" Harry had asked.

"Yeah, just a… little headache. I'll catch right up," had been Draco's reply. "Now go," he shooed. Harry had laughed, uneasy and slightly skeptical, but decided not to push, and after a chaste kiss, he jogged back to his friends.

It happened in a moment, as if in slow motion. He saw Draco stop dead in his tracks and then a pained roar sounded, cutting through the silent space of the open field. Harry froze in shock watching the boy's thin frame wretch. When Draco finally sank to his knees, he was off. Running, tearing through the calf-high grass, panic rising in his throat like bile. When he reached Draco's slumped form he knelt quickly, trying desperately to glean a response of any kind.

"Draco," Harry muttered darkly, "come on, love, wake up." He tapped Draco's cheek lightly with his hand; nothing. His throat constricted as leant down to check for breath and a part of his mind was relieved and overjoyed to find he wasn't dead.

"Fred, George!" He shouted frantically to the group who was already running nearer, faces painted with worry and confusion. "Help me levitate him. _Please._ I can't do it myself." The twins nodded wordlessly moving to extract their wands and move the blond boy's seemingly lifeless body back towards The Burrow. Hermione was at Harry's side in an instant.

"Harry, what happened?" she asked, worriedly placing a dark hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I think I know," he rushed out, "Ron, Ginny, tell Molly. We need pillows, blankets- pain potions, headache drafts- anything."

"'Course, mate," Ron replied and shared a look with his sister before tearing off past their older brothers to prepare everything.

" _Harry,_ " Hermione pressed, pulling the dark haired boy out of his frantic reverie.

"Voldemort," he replied gravely, and took off after the others, Hermione following closely behind.

~~~~~~

Draco awoke slowly with a shuddering breath. The first thing he became aware of as his eyes adjust to the dim light was the dull ache behind his eyes. The second thing he became aware of was the clatter of pots and pans and light chatter coming from around the corner. The third was that he was tangled in a mass of blankets and quilts resting on an overstuffed sofa, and he felt like he was going to suffocate.

Squeezing his eyes shut and groaning at his protesting muscles, he kicked off the many warm layers and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, resting his head in his hands to get his bearings. The next thing he realized was he had no idea how he ended up here.

He groaned again and stood up to stretch his admittedly sore frame, when a figure jerked to life in an armchair in the corner.

"Draco?" rasped a voice as the figure stood running a hand through thick, black hair.

"Harry," Draco breathed. In a blink, there were strong arms enveloping him, holding him up. Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and breathed in deep allowing the strong, familiar scent of pine and treacle tart and something distinctly _Harry_ to swirl around in his mind and bring him back to reality. Harry pulled back to look at the blond, gently caressing his face with both hands.

"I thought you were dead," He murmured, barely audible, before tilting his head to catch Draco's mouth in a lingering kiss. A knife twisted in Draco's gut. He had to tell Harry everything. He couldn't do this alone. But for now he pulled back to nudge his nose against the other boy's.

"I'm not dead," he whispered, his lips brushing against Harry's. "I'm not." His hands reached to tangle in the thick curls on Harry's head. "I'm not dead." And they were kissing again. This time the kisses were heavier, reverent. Draco parted his mouth and their tongues lapped together, each of them reveling in the feeling of being close to the other, of knowing that he was right there. Harry walked them back slowly until Draco was sitting on the sofa, the dark haired boy in his lap. And Draco was content to stay just like this. This wasn't an act of lust, this was a need to be near Harry, to feel grounded and secure.

Harry turned his head and dragged his lips over the hard line of Draco's jaw. He kissed both of Draco's cheeks and his eyelids. His forehead, his nose and finally his mouth again. He pulled back to see Draco's silver-grey eyes shining with amusement.

"What was that for?" he laughed.

"I don't know really," Harry replied, stroking his thumb over Draco's cheekbone. "I guess I'm just glad you're awake."

"I'm glad I'm awake too," the blond joked, feeling a little more like himself. Harry chuckled as he shifted off of Draco's lap, opting to sit beside him on the sofa instead.

"What do you remember?" Harry asked quietly, taking his hand and threading their fingers together.

Draco sighed and absently rubbed his thumb back and forth. "Surprisingly, quite a bit. I don't think I dreamed this time… or maybe I did and I just don't… I don't know," he said, growing anxious. There was still a dull ache in his head and, he was noticing now, still one in his forearm as well.

"That's okay, it's okay," Harry said, pulling his right hand out of their clasp and wrapping his arm around Draco instead. He never could sit still for more than a moment, always shifting and moving or fidgeting. "Will you… will you tell me what you do remember?" he asked tentatively. Draco stared straight ahead, although he could feel Harry's piercing green eyes on him, and picked at a loose thread on the cotton shirt someone had changed him into. There were a few heavy beats of silence before he spoke, quietly so as not to let the Weasleys around the corner hear him.

"Pain," he muttered at last. "There was a lot of pain. In my head and my… my arm." His fingers ghosted subconsciously over the twisted snake on his left forearm. Harry was quiet beside him. He continued, not wanting to go back now. "But before the pain, there was a… shadow. I caught it out of the corner of my eye, but then it just- it wasn't there anymore." He had begun to wring his hands together, a nervous habit he hadn't done since he was a child and his parents would talk to him about the Dark Lord. "And when I had finally convinced myself it was nothing, it appeared right in front of me. It was the figure from my nightmares. And his voice was in my head. It was in my head, Harry, and I- I couldn't escape it- I couldn't-"

"Stop." Harry's firm and commanding, yet gentle, voice cut through his nervous rambling and Draco's head snapped in the other boy's direction. "You can stop now, it's alright," he said steadying Draco's hands with his own. Their eyes met, green to grey, and Draco saw the pain that Harry's held. This affected him too. "We can talk about it later, if you're up for it. After you've had a little time to process." Draco nodded his head and Harry reached up to place a kiss on his forehead. A small smile made its way onto Draco's face. Swinging his legs up, he laid them over Harry's lap. With Harry's arm still around him and his head tucked underneath the other boy's chin, Draco felt safe, if only for this moment. Suddenly a very bushy-haired Hermione poked her head around the corner.

"Boys! Ginny! Molly says supper is ready!" she hollered up the stairs. She was just turning to retreat back into the kitchen, when she caught sight of the two boys on the couch. "Oh! Harry, Draco, I didn't know you were awake." Draco ducked his head and offered a tight lipped smile, while Harry grinned and greeted her with a low, "Hey 'Mione."

"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked quietly, just as they heard footsteps starting to thunder down the long, winding staircase.

"Better," he replied, smile growing fractionally. She wasn't so bad. Suddenly heads of red hair streaked by as the Weasleys ran to be first at the table.

"Hey, Hermione! Did you say something about supp- Oh blimey!" Ron exclaimed at the sight of his best friend. Draco rewarded this with a magnificent eyeroll while Harry snorted and shook his head.

"Honestly, Ronald," interjected Hermione, "get a grip." She threw a dish towel at him with a huff, which he caught in front of his face to reveal an overly dramatic offended expression as he followed her into the kitchen. Harry was laughing and Draco could feel his chest vibrating.

"I'm glad there's someone else around here who doesn't take any of Weasel's shit," he said flippantly. Another laugh rumbled its way through Harry's chest.

"Oh hush, you," he chuckled. Draco turned and slung his arm around the dark haired boy's neck. He leaned in and planted a kiss on the other's cheek. Then another and another, trailing small kisses until he got to the shell of Harry's ear, feeling bold all of a sudden. He nipped lightly at Harry's earlobe and kissing sweetly behind his ear.

"What are you doing?" Harry inquired, turning to Draco with an amused smile.

"We should really get in there before those savages leave us with nothing but crumbs," was Draco's reply before he was on his feet and tugging the dark haired boy off the sofa himself. This time Harry's laugh was a full body laugh.

"See, you're learning!" he exclaimed as he trailed behind the Draco, their fingers interlocked between them. They would talk about the visions and the voice later, Harry thought to himself with conviction. Not now. Not while Draco's happy and his eyes are shining with mirth. Not while his beautiful white blond hair, usually so precisely styled, is slightly mussed from sleep and kissing. _Later,_ Harry promised himself Draco turned his head back to look at him. _Later._


End file.
